To Be Remembered
by tractus.solitarius
Summary: After a failed attempt to seek vengeance, Ziva forgets more than ten years of her life. Will she remember who to trust?


**Actually, this fic is supposedly a part of a much longer story... but I do not have the time nor the willpower to finish it at the moment, so I am only posting this baby as a one-shot. Hope it works.** **The rest of it may have to wait, though. My hospital rotation will start in a few days (OB-GYN ftw), and that means 29 or so hours of duty every other day. I'm not very optimistic about finishing anything fiction-related until June (sorry).**

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"Your partner is gone, why can you not just let me be?"

Tony was starting to get tired of all of this. There's is just so much rejection a man could take, and he is closing in on the end of his patience. "I'm sick of letting you go, Ziva. If you do not remember me, fine! I don't care. Hell, I do not give a damn if you spend every waking day of your life trying to push me away! Not now that I'm certain that deep inside that silly brain of yours, you know that you felt something for me."

She visibly tensed at that, but she stood her ground. "I feel _nothing_ for you."

If her words were to hurt him, they were not doing a very good job. "You were never a good liar, Dah-veed."

She shoved him off her path and walked past him in a hasty pace. All she wanted is for him to give up and let her be. "I do not have time for this."

He chases after her, blocking her path a second time. "You're never gonna get rid of me." He has never been this sure his entire life. "I'm not going to let you."

She glared at him. "What can I say to you that would make you understand?" She lets out an exasperated sigh, and hissed under her breath, "Stop being difficult. My life is already complicated as it is. I do not need to have someone like you forcing himself into it."

"I have feelings for you, okay?" He blurted out, completely clearing away any thought that was about to form in her head. "Feelings that I shouldn't be having."

Her mouth literally went dry. It was a mystery how she even managed to get a word out. "I am not her, Agent DiNozzo." She swallowed. "Whoever you think I was before my accident... she is gone. You might as well consider her dead." she tried to look anywhere but at his imploring eyes. "I will do the same for all of you."

He smirked. "That it? That's all you've got?" He was not expecting her to come running to his arms after his declaration, but he regardless of how silly it may have sounded, he kinda hoped she would. Hey, it worked in the movies.

Well, she's not Ziva if she made it that easy.

"Why can you not just give up?" She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. He is wearing her patience thin. The headache forming behind her eyes was surely not helping. "Do not make me want to hurt you."

He inched closer. "Do you really want to get rid of me that much?"

"Yes!" She sounded as if she was finally able to explain the meaning of life to a toddler. Finally her message got across. It felt weird, though. She did not feel any tinge of relief. If anything, the thought of him finally leaving her alone unsettled her.

His partner may have forgotten him, but they've been side by side for eight years. Judging the way her eyes avoid gazing directly at him, he knew that he has gotten to her. He could feel it in his bones. She felt something for him, too—that much he could tell. It was only a matter of time before he could make her see it.

As she tried to ignore the growing queasiness in her stomach, she awkwardly mustered a smile. "Good night, Agent DiNozzo," she mumbled. She sidestepped him, but she was, again, blocked before she could completely walk away. To make matters worse, she had managed to trap herself into a corner as well. She was sandwiched between a brick wall to her left, railings that guarded the back entrance of a Chinese restaurant to her rear, and a very determined ex-partner to her right.

"Fine." He halved the gap between them and offered his hand. The decrease in their distance forced her to take a step back, more unsteadily that she would prefer. She hit the railings with a soft thud. _What the hell is he doing?_

He moved another step, wiggling his offered hand. She eyed it suspiciously. For some reason, she knew that beneath this friendly façade lies a man planning to do something completely unexpected.

"It's just a handshake, sweetcheeks." He tells her, smirking. Somehow, she recognized that term. She'd heard it before. She just could not place where.

His grin was infectious, she'd give him that. If they were in a different situation she would have smiled herself. Too bad they weren't. With doubt etching her features, she carefully extended her hand.

As their skins touched, a jolt of electricity suddenly ran along her arms, reaching her neck.

And oh no, it was not the spark thing seen in movies. Or the warm and tingly sensation described in books whenever the heroine reunites with the love of her life. The feeling, though, was too familiar for her liking. She, herself, had used the same thing a couple of times before.

Pressure point. _Of course._

Her vision blurred momentarily, and the next thing she knew, he was pressing her up against the railing, her arms trapped by his hands beside her head.

She mustered all of her strength to break free from his grasp. He won't budge. In fact, if anything, his grip on her became tighter. His chest moved even closer.

"If you really want me gone..." He began, pursing his lips, his gaze burning into her eyes.

"If you want me to stop this madness…" In truth, he didn't really want to do this, but she was forcing his hand. This Ziva is too no-nonsense to listen to anything he says—to anything everyone says.

Regardless of how she wanted to get away from him, she could not bring herself to fight her way out of this. She could not even look away. She could not put a finger on it, but there is something in his eyes. They speak to her—at least she thought they do. Somehow, she could not shrug off the familiarity of those eyes. It is as if they were telling her something that she should have understood, but could not. No matter how hard she tried, the meaning behind his gazes still evaded her.

Her thoughts were running a hundred miles a minute. Why was she feeling this way?

"This is not happening," she shook her head instinctively. It was as if she was trying to manually dislodge all the images his proximity is putting inside her head.

Tony sensed her confusion, and took it as a sign of distress. It was then when it all sank in.

"God! I shouldn't be doing this. I'm so sorry." Tony let out with a groan, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching. Ever since this whole ordeal had begun, he had been jumping from one rash decision to another. Sometimes he wonders what totally irrational thing is he about to do next, just to get his partner back.

"Then why are you?" The gentleness in her voice was overshadowed by the sound of her heavy breathing.

He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. "Isn't it obvious already, Ziva?"

Ziva's heart sped up, having an inkling where exactly this conversation will lead. "What—"

"I love you." He utters softly, stopping her partway through her question.

She gaped at him. "I am not—".

"I cannot lose you again!" His voice shook at the last word. If she did not know better, she would think everything he said caused him some sort of physical pain.

"Anthony…" It was a weak attempt, and she knew it. Her mind was reeling, but she could not simply let him win. Not when her common sense is telling her that giving in will only result in all sorts of wrong. This is not how she was supposed to feel. Not remotely.

Tony looked at her in the eye, trying so hard to force down a giant lump in his throat. His ears were buzzing. Finding his voice again, he spoke, "I couldn't live without you."

Those words seemed to have struck Ziva like lightning. A split second was all it took for him to see a glimpse his old partner, hidden beneath those brown orbs which seemed to have been her and not her at the same time, lost in the trenches of her own mind. If that look was of recollection—he did say those words to her before—or of surprise, he could not tell. For his sanity, he willed himself to think that it was the former.

He couldn't help but let a sliver of hope find its way back into his heart. He may have given up hope of her remembering who he was—he told her so himself, but he could not help but wonder: What would they be doing today if not for her accident? Will they be drinking in a bar somewhere, celebrating another closed case? Will they be stuck in the Navy Yard doing an all-nighter while terrorizing McGee? Will she be looking at him like she used to? Not unaware of exactly who he is?

However, the moment was gone before he had the chance to fully commit it into memory. She spoke again; her accented voice was firmer this time. "Anthony…" Her heart is pounding hard against her ribcage; it made her dizzy. She looked away. "Agent DiNozzo, This is me, asking you nicely this one time. Please release my hands."

Even without looking at her eyes, he could feel the internal battle raging inside her head. She was drifting away, and he needed to beckon her back. "Do not do this." He pleaded.

"Agent..." She wavered. "Tony, I—"

It is a wonder how hearing her partner calling him Tony again could clench his heart in a way that left him almost breathless. A year ago, he wouldn't even give it much thought. Hell, he probably would not even notice it. How many other things did he take for granted because he foolishly believed he will always have time—that they will always have time?

Choosing her next words carefully was difficult, but they had to be said. Even if he is basically a stranger to her, she could not bear the thought of inflicting him pain. She was right, after all; her time in this country had made her soft. She may not remember how, but it has. "You have to face the facts, Anthony. There is a big chance I will not regain my memories." She could not even make herself look at him as she spoke. "You have to let _her_ go."

She felt odd pertaining to herself in third person, as two separate entities, as the past and the present, but it had to be done. It may be the only way for him to understand that no matter how much he tries, she will never be the same person she used to be. Not even if she wanted to.

"Too late, Ziva." He released her arms, and shakily pulled her against him, encircling his arms around her as tightly as he could. "It's damn too late for that." He closed his eyes as his head fell forward on her shoulder, sighing deeply against the crook of her neck, making her shiver. Tony wasn't sure if it was desperation or instinct that made him want to be as close to her as he could get, but he chose not to ponder.

Then, he heard her gasp. For a second he was worried that the fierceness of his embrace had hurt her, but then again, he is too scared to let go. He was too scared for the moment to end because this was all he had—and if she still decided to keep him out of her life, he would not know what else to do. What they have is too important to lose. He could not risk it again by giving up too soon. No, he will not make that mistake again.

It felt as if they've been like that for hours, when in fact, it had only been a couple of minutes. Time seemed to have stopped, and although life still went on around them, he was too focused on her to care. "Do not push me away." He muttered against her skin, voice muffled. "Please."

As his arms enveloped her, her heart seemed to stop. Another gasp escaped her lips though this time, it was not because he was squeezing the air out of her lungs. This time, it was different. And no matter how hard she wanted to think otherwise, she couldn't.

"Okay." She finally yielded, all the tension she held during the entire conversation seemed to have dissipated from her body. There is a small quiver in her voice as she said it, but she sounded resolute.

He hugged her tighter. "Do you trust me?"

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded against his shoulders.

For the first time, after a very long time, a genuine smile formed on his lips. He silently hoped that things will start to look up from then on. "Good."

She braced herself for what she was about to say next, which was probably the most illogical decision she had ever come up with so far. "Tell me what I am supposed to do."

The moment Tony heard her say that, he could not believe his ears. It wasn't the answer he was looking for—not by a long shot—but it was good enough.

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**Reviews are welcome. I don't bite. Please be a little kind though. It is, after all, my first fic. **


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